Night Stalking
by of-titania-and-valkyries
Summary: An AU in which Castiel and his serial killing partner, Dexter Morgan, stalk Dean Winchester.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Today, the monster was in control. He'd taken the back seat and allowed the inner voice, the one that drove him to these dark deeds, to take the wheel.

Castiel's head popped up, senses on high alert. He'd been stalking this fragile, broken creature for weeks now. Watching his every move. Calculating and waiting. Castiel smiled. Dean was easy prey.

He was a creature of habit, every action occurring as if scheduled, which made this easier to accomplish. Simply follow, watch, and wait. One day he'd make a mistake and that mistake would cost Dean his life.


	2. Chapter 1: The Bachelor's Office

**A/N: Sorry that I took forever to update. As always, reviews are much appreciated. I hope that you enjoy this piece. Trigger warning: torture.**

The room was decorated sparingly as was befitting its use. A single chair to match the single sized cot that was shoved to the side. The manacles that hung from the walls and ceilings coupled with the stained walls, lack of light, and array of weapons that covered every available wall space lent to the room's aura of death and decay.

Castiel sat in the room's lone chair – an ornate burgundy arm chair that looked as if it belonged in the sitting room of a Duke, rather than the torture chamber of a Monster – fingers tapping tirelessly on his thigh. Soundproof, windowless, and possessing only one door, the Dungeon was a formidable place to spend the night. He had heard it referred to as 'the Devil's playground,' and 'a room straight out of a horror movie' by the slaves who had had the opportunity to visit and still lived to tell the tale. He, though, referred to it, quite fondly, as his 'office.'

Today's occupant was a pretty little blonde. Petite, no more than 23 years old - he did so enjoy them young. She looked delicious strung up in the center of the room and Cas couldn't help but feel a sudden thrill at the power he exerted over her. He stood near enough to see the silent tears making tracks down her dirty cheeks. Cas reached out and lifted a few strands of her straight, now stringy, hair, sniffing deeply. "Oh, you beautiful creature," he exhaled. He whispered soft nothings into her ear even as he ran the pads of his fingers lightly down her arm, her struggles only serving to spur him on further.

"Just give me the scream, little one. Just one more," he said, palming the blade in his hand. He'd contemplated cutting out the woman's tongue hours ago, but the mere thought was abhorrent to him. He did so much enjoy their pathetic pleas and sobs, as if the sight of their tears and the sounds of their broken pleading would move him; as if he had a heart. "It'll all be over soon enough, pretty." The tears leaked from the sides of her closed eyes, silent sobs racking her petite frame. When their session had first begun, she'd been quite vocal, the screams ripped from an already battered throat making his job that much more enjoyable, but she'd long since fallen into silence. Castiel ran his hand through her blonde hair, swiping at the tears that continued to drip from her eyes, his touch deceptively gentle. "Look at how breathtaking you are with my marks all over your soft skin." She struggled, trying desperately to shrink away from his touch, the restraints making any sort of movement nearly impossible. "I can put an end to the fun, beautiful. All I need from you is one more heartfelt, throaty scream. Give me your best, won't you?" He rained gentle kisses down on her jaw, trailed his tongue down the side of her throat, and fisted his hands in her hair tugging savagely at the strands, even as he searched out the perfect spot to lay his next cut. He smiled at her attempts to turn away from his touch, his body stirring at the sight of her.

Castiel stared at the naked woman spread eagle across the bed, arms and legs secured to its four posts. Blood caked the manacles around her wrists and ankles, her skin rubbed off due to her constant movement. He'd left her head mobile, purposely, so that she could witness every lash and cut he chose to bestow on her. Making his way down her prone form, he carefully laid down stripe after broad stripe, the pattern slowly fading into shallow cuts made by his favorite dagger. He'd taken his time, organized, planned each lash before the leather belt, and later the dagger, had connected with her body, and for a few hours the screams that had echoed around the room had been heavenly. His body had stirred and Castiel had worried that the chorus that poured from her lips would cause this all to come crashing to an abrupt end, but now, she barely moved, barely made a sound, even as he painstakingly marred her otherwise porcelain skin.

Sighing, Castiel slid off of the bed. Fragile, weak humans with their fragile, weak frames and their little hearts that gave out at the peak of the excitement; they never lasted very long. Well, not long enough for him to have any real fun anymore. His body still buzzed with excitement, and his mind still raced with possibilities. All the ways he could make her body prettier. All the things she could do for him. Castiel licked his lips. It was unfortunate, really, that she'd chosen this point in time to pass out from blood loss and exhaustion. Sighing deeply, he shifted to the side. There was no point in continuing if she wasn't awake to enjoy it.

Making his way towards the door, he delicately wiped the blood off of the dagger before replacing it in its sheath and wiping his hands on a towel. Quickly, he signaled to one of the servants who stood near the door. "Clean the girl up, and get her something to drink. We'll continue the fun in a few days when she's strong enough to enjoy it again." His orders were brusque. While he couldn't entirely trust those in his employ, he knew that he could expect absolute silence from them: they knew that what Cas did, he did because he took absolute pleasure in it and he'd enjoy nothing more than watching the life drain from the eyes of a traitor.

Moving like a ghost, the servant silently filed passed him into the room. Castiel made his way to his bedroom. A quick shower was in order before he could head out for the night. Millionaire bachelors were expected to spend their nights drinking in night clubs, picking up women, and waking up naked and drunk the next morning, and Castiel was no different. Tonight he was going hunting for another trophy to hang in his dungeon. _Maybe we'll try a redhead this time. I hear they're feisty._


End file.
